


Shine a Light (Summer)

by Pinkerton



Series: Sowing Season [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Family Feels, Homophobia, M/M, Roller Coasters, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkerton/pseuds/Pinkerton
Summary: After his first year in the Q, Kent spends summer in Buffalo. Featuring summer boredom, family road trips, annoying siblings, and roller coasters.





	Shine a Light (Summer)

“I’m boooooored,” Kent complains, flipping through the tv channels one more time. “Ugh, daytime tv.”

Kristen flips the page in her magazine from her spot on the floor directly in front of the fan. “Go play hockey?”

“Some of us in this room, and I’m not gonna name names, but some of us were at the rink getting our asses handed to us by sadistic trainers in the very early hours of the morning.”

“Hmm, wonder who you’re referring to,” Kristen says, turning a page only to have the fan flip it back. “Call your friends?” 

“They’re all working.” 

“Well, I’m reading about how to do a perfect winged eyeliner, you could let me practice on you.”

“I’ll double check about the friends.” Kent slowly rolls off the couch, taking his time to get up. His calves are _sore_. His trainer is clearly taking his status as a Q player as a challenge, pushing relentlessly at every practice, but Kent won’t complain.

Well, not too much. 

He grabs his phone and scans his contact list. He knows a couple of the guys won’t be working till later in the day, and they’d probably hang out for a few hours. He’s about to make a call when a name he hasn’t thought of in months catches his eye.

Three hours later, he begs his mom to let him ditch family game night as she resolutely ignores him in favor of reading a paperback on the couch. “Mom, you know I’m just going to drive you crazy if I’m home.”

“Hmm.” She lowers her reading glasses and looks at him over the top of the frames. “Fair enough. Who’s picking you up?”

“Brian.”

“I don’t remember a Brian. Does he have a last name?”

“Kirkpatrick.”

His mom puts her book down, sits up straight, and fully removes her glasses. Kent and Kristen call this the trifecta, and it never signifies good things coming their way. “New boy?”

“Uh, I guess.. I think he moved here last year?”

“New boy,” his mom confirms. “You know, people talk about him.”

“Do they?” Kent works on keeping his voice level. 

“Mmhm. Word around town is that he’s a little...funny.”

“Wouldn’t know. Met him at a party over Christmas. Seems like a nice guy.”

Kent’s mom rolls her eyes and mumbles, “That’s certainly a word for it.”

It’ll take less than a minute for the rage rising in Kent’s chest to show up as red blotches on his face. He needs to get out of there, fast. “Justin and Sarah are coming, too,” he lies. 

His mother watches him for a heartbeat longer. “Well, that’s different. Be home by midnight.”

When Kent goes to the bathroom to wash his face before he leaves. He locks the door and gives himself 30 seconds to shake, fists balled hard enough for his nails to leave marks in his palms. When the time is up, he splashes water on his face, dries off, and heads outside to wait for Brian.

They go bowling, which Kent had thought would be pretty safely heterosexual. He had not anticipated how many jokes about balls Brian could pack into 10 frames. By the time they finish their last game, Kent’s stomach hurts from laughing. They head to a diner and Brian requests a booth in the back, tucked away from other customers. 

“So,” he says, playing with the straw in his milkshake, “I hope you won’t be too crushed to know that I am in a relationship.”

Kent grins. “Uh, same?”

“Well look at us.” Brian lifts his glass. “To getting dick on the reg.” Kent looks around. No one’s close enough to hear them. He lifts his soda and clinks, carefully. 

“I’m not--I mean. Yeah. But--”

“Hey.” Brian sets down his shake and looks at Kent. “I’m still on the football team. My boyfriend runs track. The most public thing we’ve done is sneak onto the field one night and make out on the 50 yard line. We’re keeping things secret.”

 _Not that secret_ , Kent thinks, his mind going back to his conversation with his mother.

“Tragically, because of that, you are the only person I have to talk to about this without playing the pronoun game, so drink your damn soda and let me gush about my boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Kent says, thinking of Jack putting up with him talking about Marc. “That sounds great. Lay it on me.”

Brian’s face lights up. “Good, cause I’m fucking in love and it is awesome. So, one day I’m hanging out after practice, and this guy walks up to me--”

* * * *

Kent makes it home at 11:58 and is in bed soon after. Even though his trainer is meeting him in less than seven hours, he doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to gnaw at the quiet worry in the back of his mind, growing since Brian dropped him off.

Brian is completely, grossly, adorably in love with his boyfriend. He practically glowed when he talked about him. 

Kent is pretty sure he doesn’t glow when he talks about Marc. 

Though, to be fair, Brian’s been dating his boyfriend longer. Maybe it’ll just take more time. Plus, it’s not like Marc’s made any declaration, either. They’ve only been together a couple months. These things take time. 

* * * *

Summer slogs on, hot, humid, and full of hockey. Kent’s bored out of his mind. He is almost looking forward to the annual family drive down to Virginia to visit his mom’s sister and his five cousins, ranging from age 10 to 6 months. 

Almost.

They leave early on a Friday and hit heavy construction and traffic most of the way down. Everyone’s grumpy when they finally arrive in Richmond. The front door of the house opens before they even get out of the car, a tornado of children and a lot of enthusiastic noise spilling out.

The noise continues for the duration of their five day stay. Kent and Kristen are sharing a room with Billy, age five, who insists that Kent take his race car bed. In the middle of the night, after tossing and turning on the thin mattress for what feels like hours, Kent gently steps over Billy, sound asleep in his Spiderman sleeping bag on the floor, and tiptoes past Kristen’s camping cot, making his way downstairs. 

He crashes on the couch in the den and gets a few hours of good sleep before there’s a tiny hand prying his eye open around 5 am. “Cant!” chirps Maggie. She’s turning two in three days and is a perfect, chubby angel who is somehow always slightly sticky. 

Sticky but cute, Kent thinks, as he helps her climb the couch and nestle into the space beside him. “Cant!”

“I’m asleep.” 

“No.”

“Yes.” 

“No. Nack?”

Kent sighs and throws his covers off. “Okay. One snack. Then sleep?”

“No!” she yells happily as she races ahead of him to the kitchen.

They watch the sunrise on the back porch, sharing a bowl of dry Cheerios, and in the afternoon, when Kent falls asleep watching tv, Maggie helps her sisters lovingly cover him in glittery stickers.

That night, as Kent waits for the bathroom to free up, he looks over the gallery of family photos in the hall. The most recent has the entire family in matching sweaters, a ridiculous fake snowy backdrop taking up the background.

Tom and Karen look so happy, and even if the kids seem to be looking at about 4 different cameras than the one taking the picture, they’re all smiling. He thinks of the weight of Maggie, snuggled warm against him, of her babbles and her pudgy cheeks.

After Kristen finally saunters out of the bathroom, steam billowing behind her, Kent brushes his teeth and inspects his reflection in the mirror. Maybe when he’s almost forty, like Uncle Tom, he’ll have a pack of kids, and laugh lines, and his hair will be thinning but his smile will be brighter than ever. He’ll have won three Stanley cups, and he’ll be married, and he and his --

\-- his brain falters and fails to fill in the blank.

He finishes brushing his teeth quickly, and when Maggie finds him on the couch the next morning, he holds her extra close. 

* * * *

“I’m not _scared_ ,” Kent says as he treks across the parking lot of Busch Gardens. They’ve been ending their summer trips here since Kristen was a toddler, a Parson-only reprieve before heading back north.

He looks ahead, his eyes lingering on the rollercoaster tracks sticking up over the trees. “It’s just that my body --”

“--is not yet insured for millions of dollars, _Kenneth--”_

“Not my name, and also--”

“--and said body will be riding Alpengeist with me so we can get a photo. It’s _tradition_.”

She’s got him there. The back wall of the den in the Parson house is a horrible photo tribute of their annual trips, starting with blond, tiny children on colorful, tiny rides, and ending with last summer’s snapshot of the two of them, front row of the millionth coaster she’d dragged him on, her face lit up with delight, his screwed up into a grimace.

He tunes back in as she continues her argument. “Besides, when else will you -- oh my god.” She stops in her tracks, her mouth open in shock, staring straight ahead at the park entrance. 

There, in front of the turnstiles, bouncing up and down and grinning, is Robbie.

* * * * 

“You can chicken out anytime. I’d love to remind you of it until we both die.” Kristen is just ahead of him as they wind through the line, which is much shorter than Kent would have preferred. 

Robbie is plastered to Kent’s side, vibrating with excitement. “I gotta be tall enough now, right?” 

Kristen winds her long hair up onto the top of her head, part of her pre-ride ritual, then presses her hand to the top of Robbie’s head. “You feel taller.” She turns to Kent. “Remember to keep your neck straight and not push back on the headrest this time.”

“You’re my least favorite sister.” Kent can’t take his eyes off the rise of steel above them. There’s only a bit more distance between them and the queues for seats. 

Robbie clears the height minimum by a good inch, so Kent’s brilliant plan of leaving the line with him to get funnel cake and lemonade while promising he’ll be taller next year is a no go.

Kent wonders if he could get away with pretending to be pregnant. He slouches and pushes out his stomach. 

“What on earth are you doing?” Kristen asks, as she grabs his hand and leads him to the line for the front of the car.

As the attendant straps him in, Kent offers up prayers to God, Allah, Krishna, and Gretzky, and makes a mental note to buy Kristen a crappy birthday present this year.

* * * *

A blue, cloudless sky stretches out as far as Kent can see; beyond the park, a spread of vibrant, summer-green trees fades into the horizon. He can feel Robbie’s leg brushing his as he kicks his dangling feet in the air below them. A bird flies by. 

It is, Kent thinks, objectively, scenic as fuck.

The ride drops.

He can just make out Robbie’s shriek of joy and Kristen yelling before the rush of wind in his ears and his heart leaping into his throat reduces everything to white noise.

Three minutes later, or maybe an eternity, he isn’t sure, they come to a stop. He scrambles out of his seat and only wobbles slightly as they walk to the souvenir picture stand. 

In the picture, Robbie is yelling, Kristen is waving, and Kent looks pained, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Ugh, we look terrible.”

“You look terrible. Robbie and I look great.” Kristen and Robbie high five.

Kent rubs his neck. “My neck hurts.”

“Kristen told you to lean forward.” Robbie trots off with their freshly printed photo to where James is waiting for them. 

“Traitor,” Kent whispers.

Kristen and Robbie get in line at the nearby funnel cake stand, but the smell of hot oil turns Kent’s still unsettled stomach. He retreats to the bench where James is sitting and bouncing baby Alana in her carrier, talking to her as she babbles at him. 

Kent sits down next to him, careful to make his movements slow and smooth. He’s been jostled enough for the day. When he settles, he pokes at James’ arm. “Why is your DNA so tall?” 

James blinks at him. “What?”

“Nevermind. Are my parents coming back soon?”

“Nah, they’re having lunch and doing the river cruise. We’re meeting by the log flume in --” he checks his watch. Kent briefly reflects on how dads are probably keeping the watch industry afloat. “--about forty minutes. Plenty of time to do another ride.”

He looks from his watch at Kent, regarding him for a long moment, then digs into his backpack. He pulls out a bottle of water, which he hands to Kent, and a spoon and a jar of baby food. “Drink that. You’re looking a little green, man.” 

“Is Kristen near enough to hear that?”

“Nope.”

“Great.” He drinks his water and waves to Robbie and Kristen as they head toward the swings, funnel cakes dusting powdered sugar all over their shirts. Kent slumps against the bench.

“It’s nice to talk to you face to face,” James says, beginning to feed Alana.

“Yeah, same.”

“I’m really sorry we couldn’t make it up to visit this summer. Used up my vacation when the Robster first got home.”

“Yeah, you said.” Kent realizes he’s clenching his jaw and forces himself to relax.

“Your summer going good?”

“Yeah.”

James rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You sure got a lot to say, huh?”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a while, Alana twisting to avoid the spoonfuls of peaches James is trying to give her. When she manages to grab the spoon and dump a glob of fruit on her bib, he gives up. “You wanna hold her while I go get a soda?”

“Sure.” Kent reaches out, and Alana is shifted into his lap. 

“Sure. That’s a nice change of pace from ‘yeah’. You want a soda?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Yup, walked right into that one.” A few minutes later, James returns, trading Kent a soda for the baby.

James bounces her on his knee. “I gotta say, I’m a little stressed sitting here. I’m not sure I’ve ever worried about if a teenager liked me or not.”

“Oh?” Kent gnaws on his straw.

“Do you know the thing I’ve heard more about from Robbie than anything else? You.”

“Huh.” Overhead, the Skyride cars glide by. Kent focuses on them, willing himself not to cry.

“Everything was so crazy at the start, I don’t know if he really understood how far North Carolina is from New York, or what it would mean to wake up in my house instead of yours. I mean, you know he figured it out. You got those phone calls.”

Kent nods, and James continues. “He’s doing a lot better. Now he only brings you up maybe five, six times a day.” The laugh that bubbles out of Kent’s mouth surprises them both. 

James takes a moment, then continues, “I think he’s told me everything about you but your debit card PIN, and that’s only because he doesn’t know it. He misses you so much. I will never, ever regret bringing him home, but I do regret the pain he’s going through adjusting to it.”

Despite Kent’s best efforts, a tear slips out. “I miss him every day.” 

He feels James’ hand on his shoulder, not entirely unwelcome, warm and heavy. “I got him a bunk bed. He won’t let anyone sleep in the bottom. Says it’s yours. Just so you know, you got a home in North Carolina as much as you do in Buffalo.” 

Kent clears his throat. “That’s nice.”

“See, you don’t think I mean it.” James shifts a bit, digging into his pocket. He pulls out a keychain with two silver keys on it. “I mean it.”

James hands over the keys, and Kent takes them wordlessly. “What? Are these really to your house?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hah! Touche, man.” Kent watches the sun glint of the metal in his hand.

“Come stay awhile. Get to know me and Christine. You know, when you can. I know you’re really busy with the hockey.”

“The hockey?”

“I’ve watched a couple games. Robbie was so excited to teach us about the rules. I love him, but you know how when he gets all excited--”

“--nothing makes sense. Yeah. I’m guessing he’ll grow out of that.”

“That’ll be a sad day cause it’s hilarious. We had a lot of fun watching, but I learned almost nothing except that he has very strong opinions about how awesome the Sabres are. Are they a good team?”

Kent laughs as he stands, offering a hand to help hoist James and Alana. “Oh wow, I’m going to keep you in the dark about that one till you figure it out for yourself.” They set off to find the rest of their group, and as they’re walking, Kent slips the keys in his pocket. He clears his throat. “Hey, James? For the record? I do like you.”

James smiles at him, warm and genuine. “Use those keys, okay?”

Kent runs his fingers over his jean pocket, tracing them. “Ok.”

They find Kristen and Robbie first, then their parents, happy to watch Alana so James can do the log flume with the kids. 

This time, Kent is happy to find himself staring down the very moderate drop of the ride, Robbie and Kristen sitting ahead of him, and James behind him.

He buys two copies of the photo of them all laughing their heads off on the ride. He slips the second copy into Alana’s diaper bag when James isn’t looking.

That night, Kristen dozing against him in the backseat of the family van, Kent thinks about his talk with James. A few days later, he writes an email full of links to hockey videos and websites with rules and skating basics. He throws in Oceanic’s homepage, too, and just as he’s about to hit send, he pauses, and opens a new search window. Half an hour later, frowning, he picks up his phone and calls Montreal.

The conversation with Jack is short, and soon Kent is typing his final sentences.

_You’re looking to get him into a squirt house team and from what I can find online those in your area are all full up. Try to register him anyway, and if there’s any problems I’ll have my friend’s dad call and fix it, which I 100% promise will work._

He hits send, and when he naps later in the day, his dreams are full of laughter.

* * * *

The family drives up to Niagara for the 4th of July, like always. While their parents linger in the hotel, Kent and Kristen head to the Canadian side. Kent gets a tourist to snap of a photo of them on the Rainbow Bridge, falls churning in the background.

He looks at the photo on the camera’s tiny display while they wait in line for ice cream. He and Kristen are just off center, both with the beginnings of a sunburn across their noses. His hair is a riot from the wind, and he’s smiling, weirdly happy to be back in Canada, even for a few hours. He misses the Olsens, and he misses Jack. They’d had a quick phone call that morning, Jack wishing him a happy birthday, Kent wishing that they were celebrating it together. 

Maybe next year. After the draft. 

They get back to Buffalo late the next day. Right before he falls asleep, Kent emails the photo of him on the bridge to Jack. 

Jack replies the next afternoon with a picture of him and Bob, arms around each other’s shoulders, on a golf course.

He looks happy.

* * * *

By late July Kent is itching to get back to Rimouski. He messes around at the rink with the local boys, but he’s playing at such a different level that it’s not really any fun. Brian’s waiting tables most nights, and Kent has an early bedtime, so they don’t get to hang out much. There’s a few long phone calls with Jack, and even more with Marc, who’s busy with lacrosse. 

Kent hates that he’s too far away to go to the games and cheer him on. He hates spending time in his childhood bedroom, absent of Robbie and small and cramped compared to the basement in the Olsen’s house. He hates the thin walls that mean when he actually does get to talk to Marc, he has to practically whisper. He hates his mom’s insistence on tracking what he does when he leaves the house.

He also hates Kristen’s friends. 

One night, after she ushers out her two best friends and closes the front door, she turns on him. “You don’t have to be such a dick to Allison.”

“First,” Kent counts off, as he pokes in the bowl of snack mix on the coffee table, looking for pretzels, “I wasn’t a dick. Two, is she ok? She was acting really weird.”

“Oh my fucking god, she has a crush on you, you idiot. She was flirting with you and you were just, like, oblivious.”

“Oh gross.” Kent gives up on his quest for pretzels. “I’ve known her since she was four.”

“It’s super gross. I mean, first, it’s you--”

“Hey!”

“--and second, I tried to tell her that you probably think of her like a sister. But she says you’re cute now, and then went on and on about your eyes and your muscles and, swear to god, I almost puked.”

Kent takes a second to let his brain flick from the assumption that he would have thoughts about girls to being pleased that someone thinks he’s cute. He formulates his response.

“Barf.”

Kristen throws a pillow at him, and they clean up and head to bed. 

Later in the week, Allison invites Kent to the water park, just him and her, no Kristen. Kent wiggles his way out of the conversation and retreats to his room, where he makes a very small, hidden countdown chart to heading back north. 

When he rips off the final day’s tab a week and a half later, he breathes a sigh of relief. His bags are packed, his goodbyes have been said, he’s ready. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title song by Wolf Parade, from their excellent album Apologies to the Queen Mary.
> 
> Thanks to summerfrost for the extensive Busch Gardens roller coaster fact checking.


End file.
